#the rise of iron maiden | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterthepark · 2 years

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one.

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty.

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door.

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does.

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.”

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard.

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.”

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too.

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive.

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks.

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.”

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows.

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats.

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved?

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites.

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again.

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all.

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches.

Summer has never felt so long.

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares?

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful.

You’re completely devastating.

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?”

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to.

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes.

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration.

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him.

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?”

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter.

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest.

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it.

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin.

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.”

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it.

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven.

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks.

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’ before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex.

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers.

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him.

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin.

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath.

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls.

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you.

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more.

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know.

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away.

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive.

He’s milked. Spent.

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick.

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke.

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces.

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with.

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs.

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning.

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door.

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night.

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood.

God forbid they have coyotes, right?

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

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lokis-army-77 · 1 month

Text

Ravishing

mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Your boyfriend catches you making lunch but food isn't what he wants to devour.

Warning: 18 +. p in v, unprotected sex, kinda dom eddie, slight piss kink (its 4 v small paragraphs, some dialogue, and highlighted in red for those who want to skip).

Thank you to my beta readers <3 and Mariah for helping with the header.

Masterlist

The late morning sun cast a warm bright haze around the open-concept kitchen and living room. The blinds had been pulled back to let the natural light illuminate what you were doing.

You shuffled around the kitchen quietly, gathering all the things needed to make a bowl of ramen. In contrast to the warm light, the air was cool. The breeze from the vent just beside the oven had goosebumps appearing over your legs, given you were only dressed in a simple white thong and your boyfriend's rather worn Iron Maiden t-shirt.

He was still sound asleep, laid out like a starfish, soft snores coming from his parted lips. It had taken everything in you to leave the comfort of the warm bed and his embrace but once your stomach began to growl, you forced yourself to pry your sore body from the bed.

The night before had been eventful, to say the least. Your boyfriend had ravished you. Worshiped your body in the way that only he could. His tongue, fingers, and his cock were dedicated to your pleasure, leaving you a weak, worn-out mess atop the mattress. You went round after round, not stopping until well after the sun started to rise.

As you reminisced on all the ways he had made you cum, you hadn't noticed the sounds of footsteps heavy with sleep nearing you.

Arms wrapped around your middle as you placed the pot of water on the eye. You leaned into the embrace, humming contently.

"Good morning." You smile.

"Morning." He mumbles into your neck. "I'm starving."

"I'll be done with food in a bit." You reply, tearing open the seasoning packet.

He groans into your skin, fingers lifting the hem of your shirt up and over your breasts. "Not what I'm hungry for." He all but purs. His hands move to push your panties down and then grab your hips, rutting his cock against your ass. You hadn’t noticed he was completely bare.

"Eddie-" you gasp as his fully hard cock pushes into your entrance. Your body shivers at the sensation, still sensitive from your last tussle only a few hours ago.

You hang your head low as he begins to rut into you, moving his hips at a pace you think should be all too fast for someone who has just woken up.

Pouring the contents of the seasoning packet into the water, you took the trash to the counter before bracing yourself against it. "Oh fuck. Feels so- ah! Feels so good." You groan.

Eddie grunts as he leaves wet, sloppy kisses along your shoulders and up the column of your neck. His teeth nip and bite at the delicate skin, marking you, claiming you as his own.

He jackhammers into you, the roughness forcing your legs to widen and your knees to weaken. Strong hands keep you from falling.

You're moved away from the oven, your front pushed over the butcher block counters. The wood is cold and you let out a squeal when your aching nipples make contact.

The strong thrusts have your body rocking against the countertop. Your hands are thrown out in front of you, pushing against the wall to keep you from being fucked into it.

You can barely get a noise out with the way Eddie is relentlessly using your sopping cunt.

"Taking me so well, Princess. Pussy made just for me, hum?"

You nod enthusiastically. "S'just for you," your words slur. "Oh-! Oh, Eddie!" Your lungs gain a burst of air as the tip of Eddie’s cock slides past the spot inside you that he always, so masterfully, finds.

He hikes one of your legs up, opening you further to him. The new angle pushes his length further into you. He's directly hitting that spot now, over and over and over again. It has you lost for words, a bundle of whimpers and nerves so tight you think you might explode.

It's all building up and you can do nothing to stop it but moan out against the wooden counter.

"Eddie- Eddie please I can't. Fuck-" your voice wobbles. "I think I'm gonna‐"

He buries himself deeper. "Gonna cum pretty girl?"

You shake your head. No, this is different, more urgent.

Your breathing is heavy as you reply. "No. Ah- I think, fuck, I think I'm gonna pee. You have to stop, Eddie, you have to."

He did not stop. The thrusts only kept coming, stroke after stroke he hit that special place but that was not the only place you felt the length of his cock. Your bladder stung with the fast and pressing need to relieve itself. The thought of letting go right here in the kitchen had you flushing, your body hot, and your face as red as could be.

"Hold it," Eddie commanded.

Your legs shook with the pleasure and pain

"I can't"

"Yes, you can. Hold it, sweetheart."

"Can't-" you heave. It was taking everything in you to do as he said, to hold it back. "Can't -", You let out a defeated whimper as you felt warmth begin to trickle down your leg.

It didn't take more than a second for that trickle to turn into a gush. You felt dirty as the piss pooled below you. Your body flushed with embarrassment, tears welled in your eyes.

Eddie tutted behind you, "Aww, was it too much for you?" The condescending tone of his voice made the heat in your body explode.

You answered him with a weak mewl, "Uh-huh."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you, baby. Did I make you dumb?"

All the while, his hips never stopped pistoning into you. Sloppy wet sounds were a constant ambiance in the room.

Now, a more familiar tug begins inside of you, one you knew all too well. A tugging that Eddie had learned, over years, when and how to pull to bring you the most pleasure. He expertly knew how to yank on that string in your abdomen until you fell over the edge.

Your cunt squeezed him, contracting around his stiff cock like a vice. He chucked before leaning down and licking a thick, wet stripe up the plane of your back, causing a shiver to rake through you.

"I can feel how close you are. So warm and wet, gonna fill you with my fuckin cum." He whispers in your ear.

"Please."

His lips pull into a smirk against your skin. "You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Want all the cum I can give you, huh? Wanna be a pretty little cum baby for me?"

"Yes, yes Eddie, yes." Your eyes are almost rolling into the back of your head as your release inches closer and closer.

"Say it. Say what you want." The command is rough, a drastic change from the patronizing softness he had before.

With your body shaking, nerves prickling as you try and stave off your fall, you let out a shriek. "Wanna cum! Please-oh fuck- let me cum!" Your hand's fist so tight, your knuckles turn white.

You barely hear Eddie give you permission before you're coming undone around him.

You swear there was a bright flash of light before your closed eyes as you shook. Was it heaven? Was it God? You had no idea but you swear with everything in you that this was the most intense orgasm you've ever had.

Eddie's brutal pace finally dissipates into longer, more slow, and steady strokes as he comes down from his own high.

"Fuck." The groan he lets out rumbles his chest, you can feel the vibrations on your back.

You just want to lean there forever. Have Eddie pressed up against you in the warm light of the day, not a worry in the world. Exhausted, your eyes begin to close and your bones become liquid. It's relaxing, resting in the aftermath of something so big. That is until you hear an all too familiar sizzle of water boiling over and hitting the hot eye of the stove.

Your heart beats faster for a whole other reason now as you push Eddie off you and turn to take the pot of water off the stove, thankful there wasn't anything that could have burnt or overcooked inside.

"I love you," Eddie voices. "I fuckin love you."

Turning on your heel, you look at him. His sharp edges seem soft and you can't help but smile.

"Love you more." You challenge.

He steps forward, taking you in his arms and placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, leaving you with a big smack. "Love you most." Another kiss. And another. And another, until you're giggling so much you have to shove him gently away from you.

"Let's get this mess cleaned up and maybe we can make something to eat." You pause, Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he can, pointing a finger at him. "And don't say it's not what you're hungry for, I'm not having sex with you again until you have an actual meal."

He lifts his hands in defense. "Hey, not my fault you always look so... ravishing."

"Uh-huh, alright smooth talker. Let's get cleaned up."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

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loveshotzz · 2 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could do Perv!Eddie getting caught masterbating with his best friends stolen panties only to find out she’s as perverted as him? Please and thank you!

also- if you could add the fact that reader has stolen things from him too? thank you!

Love your work!! ❤️

OOOO THIS IS SPICY. Let me see what I can do for you bb 💞 I hope you like it!

Warnings: Masturbation both m and f. Perv!Eddie and Perv!Reader. MINORS DO NOT ENTER.

You watched Eddie frantically throw clothes around his room, shirts, pants, underwear.

“Where the fuck is it?” He mutters under his breath, dumping out his laundry basket all over the floor. His room looks like a bomb went off.

“What are you looking for?”

Eddie’s hunched over the pile of clothes on the ground, the bottom of his hellfire shirt rising up. Blue and white checkered boxes peak out the top of his tightly fitted jeans. Biting your bottom lip the sight makes your thighs press together.

God, you gotta get it together, he’s your best friend.

“My favorite Iron Maiden shirt, I haven’t seen it for like a week. I wanted to wear it to the show tomorrow.” His voiced is muffled as he moves to his small closet ripping everything out of there next.

Your eyes go wide at the mention of his Iron Maiden shirt. You had pocketed that shirt in your back pack last week while Eddie had been in the shower. Both of you had spent all day outside at Lovers lake, the heat of the sun making you both sweaty messes. There was something about Eddie’s musk that had always made your mouth water, you couldn’t help but turn into a thief when the opportunity presented itself.

On nights after the days where his fingers brushed against you more then normal or he used pet names a little too freely, you’d wrap it around your pillow using it to get yourself off. Imagining it was his cock you were bouncing on, his scent swirling around you made your fantasies seem real in the moment.

Heat rising to your cheeks you had to think of something quick. You couldn’t just let him destroy his room for something he was never going to find.

“Why not your AC/DC one? With the flames? That one’s cooler.” You try lamely, nervous fingers playing with the hem of your shorts.

“No, I want this one.” You knew once he made up his mind there was no going back. “I just don’t know where it is, I wore it to the Lake last week…” Eddie stands there looking up at the ceiling trying to jog his memory of its whereabouts. Index finger following an imaginary timeline.

Suddenly his dirty carpet is the most interesting thing in the world to you. Sweaty palms and rosy cheeks, if Eddie were paying more attention he’d see the guilt written all over your face.

The sound of Uncle Wayne opening the front door is your saving grace, using the distraction to make a quick exit you ignore Eddie’s confusion at your sudden need to leave.

You were going home and washing that shirt, you’d sneak it back into his room when he wasn’t home. He’d never know.

——

Eddie always had band practice on Friday’s the one day out of the week he didn’t take you home from school. It was the perfect time to do it, all you had to do was wait until Wayne went to work.

It sounded like a fool proof plan until you showed up that late afternoon and Eddie’s van was still parked in front.

After an internal battle you decide you’re already here and the shirt was clean in your hand. You just needed an excuse to give him as to why you had it.

The walk up to his front door is spent running through a list of reasons why, finally landing on accidentally grabbing it with a shirt that you had left here. It wasn’t a far off excuse, practically living here part time.

Digging the spare key he had given you out of your pocket, you let yourself in. It was something you did all the time, Eddie always playing his music too loud to hear you knocking.

Shutting the door behind you, it takes you a minute to realize how quiet the trailer is. Eddie’s van was here, Wayne was gone, usually your eardrums are threatening to rupture.

“Fuck— you like that?” Eddie’s breathy voice breaks through the silence followed by a low moan.

Your heart sinks, Eddie didn’t tell you band practice was cancelled because he was with a girl. A girl that was living out your fantasies.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you like how your best friend fucks you?”

His words confuse you, is he secretly fucking Gareth? You don’t have any control over your feet as you make your way to his room,curiosity getting the best of you.

Peaking through the crack in his door, nothing could prepare you for the sight in front of you.

Eddie was laid out on his bed, shirt lifted up just above his belly button with his pants shoved half way down his thighs. His eyes were closed, brows knitted together with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead causing his bangs to stick. Your eyes roam the happy trail that haunted your dreams following the dark length of hair to an even thicker darker bush at the base of it.

His cock was everything you had ever imagined it to be, even in his big hand it looked massive. You could see the glint of precum leaking from the tip as he continued to fist himself, his motions getting faster chasing his orgasm. Eddie was close and you couldn’t find it in yourself to walk away.

Something pink caught your eye in his other hand as he brought it up to his nose inhaling deeply.

“You smell so good y/n you gonna let me cum inside of you?”

When Eddie says your name it feels like your world stops. Watching him take the pink fabric from his nose bringing it to the head of his leaking cock, you realize that pink fabric was your underwear.

The panties you had been searching days for. Finally chocking it up to them falling into the dryer abyss even though you never remembered washing them. Here they were in Eddie’s possession wrapped around his dick ready to collect his cum.

The idea of Eddie stealing your dirty panties to get off to makes the wet patch in your underwear become almost unbearable. Shuffling your feet trying to gain friction you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

Eddie’s eyes snap open and meet yours when he hears you at his door way, but he’s too close to stop now. Eyes locked on yours, the idea of you watching him fuck himself in your panties sends him close to the edge. When his eyes leave your half lidded one’s and he see’s the Iron Maiden shirt clutched in your hand, it all comes together. Your strange behavior, the red in your cheeks, you were stealing his clothes too.

The realization mixed with the thought of you getting yourself off with his shirt has him spilling himself into the soft fabric of your panties. Eyes rolling in the back of his head, his whole body convulses with the intensity of the orgasm crashing through him. Your presence escalating everything, not even his own fantasies could come up with this. With his eyes still closed Eddie needs a minute to catch his breath, his fingers gripping tightly to your panties that were now dripping with his cum.

“I just came to return your shirt.”

Part Two

#request #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #kinktober

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lengthofropes · 2 years

Photo

"It's Forced Conforming. That's What's Killing The Kids"

ID under the cut

1.Eddie - freakin’- Munson

The aesthetics.

2. D&D. The Hellfire club

The "Hellfire Club" is an official D&D club at Hawkins High School. Membership came with a degree of protection, but demanded loyalty to campaign nights. Members of the club both create and wear white raglan shirts with black long sleeves, finished with the Hellfire Club name and logo on the center. Hellfire Club is hosted in a drama/theatre room.

MEMBERS:

Eddie Munson († - Head) Mike Wheeler Dustin Henderson Lucas Sinclair Erica Sinclair(substitute) Gareth Jeff "Freak"(unnamed)

3. The Sweetheart

Custom 24 fret, supercharged NJ Warlock with B.C. Rich Pickups, Floyd Rose Tremolo and jumbo frets.

(*description taken from official B.C. Rich Instagram)

The B.C. Rich Warlock is both an electric guitar and bass guitar made by B.C. Rich. It features a distinct jagged shape and two humbucker pickups. It was designed by company founder Bernie Rico in 1969.The introduction of the Warlock in 1981 marked the beginning of B.C. Rich's rise to iconic status in heavy metal. The confluence of B.C. Rich's far-out designs and the emerging hair metal culture of the late '70s and early '80s helped cement the brand's place in the market. Over the years since its introduction the Warlock has become a de facto image of a heavy metal guitar.

4. Corroded Coffin

THE BAND

Corroded Coffin is Eddie Munson's band that plays in Hawkins, Indiana. It consists of four students from Hawkins High School. They have rehearsals in Gareth’s garage and perform at The Hideout club on Tuesdays and usually get a crowd of about five drunks.

DRUMS - Gareth. Plays Sabian B8 crash and B8 Pro ride cymbals, Zildjian ZBT hi-hat (all models of 2010’s btw) and black Gretsch drum kit.

BASS GUITAR - ‘Freak’ (unnamed). Plays 4-String Squier Bullet bass by Fender.

RHYTHM GUITAR - Jeff. Plays Peavey T-15.

5. Sweet old tatties

ALL TATTOOS: DESIGN by @1sutton1; CONCEPT by @amylforsythe

THE BATS -back of the right forearm

THE PUPPETMASTER - inner side of the right forearm

THE WYVERN - back of the right arm

THE SPIDER - left side of the сhest, under the collarbone

THE DEMON - under the spider tattoo

(*names of the tattoos are taken from the Amy’s instagram)

6. The chains

RIGHT HAND. Chain bracelet with two rivets leather clasp.

LEFT SLEEVE. Accessory chain over the zipper.

VALLET CHAIN. Accessory first came to prominence with biker subcultures during the '50s, created to keep the wallets intact. Soon become popularized by the early pioneers of '70s punk, who not only incorporated them into their way of dress as a means to prevent pickpocketing along with securing their stash while flailing about in mosh pits, but also promoted them as a fashion accessory. Eventually was adopted by variety of music subcultures that spawned after punk: goths, rivet heads and a multitude of heavy metal enthusiasts. throughout the '80s.

7. The rings

LEFT HAND. Three biker rings of G&S Jewellery company, casted in bronze, silver plated.

On the index finger: a cross and 4 small skulls ring On the middle finger: a hog head ring. On the ring finger: big skull ring.

RIGHT HAND. On the ring finger: jewelry ring, oxidized metal and black (most likely, obsidian or onyx) gemstone.

(*rings company is identified by smart dudes of Internet)

8. Patches & pins

PINS:

Judas Priest (English heavy metal band)

W.A.S.P. ( American heavy metal band)

Accept (German heavy metal band)

Mercyful Fate (Danish heavy metal band) album, “Don’t Break The Oath”(1984)

PATCHES:

LEVIATHAN CROSS PATCH - Alchemical symbol for black sulfur, associated with the fire and brimstone of Hell. Also known as 'Satan's Cross'

MOTORHEAD PATCH - "Hammered Cut Out" design, with Snaggletooth (official band’s mascot)

IRON MAIDEN PATCH - "Eddie the Head" (official band’s mascot)

MEGADEATH PATCH - band logo

DIO BACK PATCH - album “The Last in Line”(1984)

(*Accept and Mercyful Fate pins are identified by smart dudes of Internet)

9. & other cool accessories

GUITAR PICK - on a neck ball chain

THE WATCH - CASIO w 700 (548 module), 100 m water resist, alarm, chronograph

BLACK BANDANA (or handkerchief) with white skull and bones pattern. Although bandanas are a common accessory among metalheads, it’s interpretation within the LGBT community should also be taken into account. According to the Hanky code, it means that Eddie is top (left pocket placing) and into S&M (black color).

10. Dexterous hands

Proficient guitar playing (A.K.A. slaying)

Advanced hotwiring

11. The Hair

No, that’s it. It’s just gorgeous.

(*all the accessories and musical instruments are identified by me, if not stated otherwise)

END ID.

#strangerthingsedit #stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #fuck this is a gifset of a lifetime.....#st4 #cowboycoven2 #useralison #userdorksinlove #tuserpris #userange #useraurore #tusersclara #anzgifs

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moodymisty · 4 months

Note

Listen I know the wall husbands heads are full of concrete but I'm interested in what you could do with a black templar

Maybe having a cleric darling (Thinking more of a lay person vs someone like a sister of battle) so there can be some delicious religious subtext

But I also know some black templars are very much into seeing when normal baseline humans can overcome the odds and rise above with their own zeal.

Maybe she isn't a combatant but by the God Emperor she will help out however she can even if it is just passing him boltgun magazines.

I got ideas for Black Templars but they're all over the place! Maybe you can make more sense of my ramblings and since it's still on the brain it could be Yandere or not just however you can make a Black Templar with a Darling work

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: So... I went apeshit. I apologize. I just fucking love doing religious subtext and whatnot. Also the frail maiden with her knight. Combining them? Awooga. Like this is my dream prompt. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

Relationships: Unnamed Black Templar/Fem!Reader (there aren't pronouns used but the lady/knight vibe is super intense)

Warnings: A smidge lewd but not NSFW, Vague traditional gender roles-like talk (being gentle/needing to be protected etc), Religious under(over)tones, Forbidden romance undertones, Vague yandere/yandere beginnings, Armor kink if you squint, Brief mentions of blood and murder, General 40kness

Word Count: 2209 oops uwu

Ceramite boots thud against the floor like the thunder overhead, echoing in the high, vaulted ceilings.

He hears a tile crack underneath his right boot as he shifts his weight onto it mid-step.

He was always heavier than his brothers. His armor had to be adjusted three different times to fit him as he outgrew it.

'Leave him, he’s off to go for his prayers, and to stalk the locals.’

His one battle brother had laughed at the other’s comment, as he left them all behind to return to the cathedral. It's far from his first time here, in these sanctified halls. He finds himself returning here after almost every patrol, every outing, every moment alone.

His armor shifts with his movement, and he rolls his left shoulder during his walk. He’s had the armor fixed after a stray round hit him in the shoulder, but it still feels off. Like the motion is ever so slightly delayed in comparison to his other interface ports.

He'll get it looked at again. For now he has a different pursuit.

It’s the dead of the night, moon high in the sky as he walks through the nave past pews filled with nothing but air. At this time of night he knows it will only be you here, keeping candles lit and rolling scrolls. A stray servoskull might flutter past every now and again, but other than that, you remain in complete solitude.

No distractions, no needless fluff. You're always busy, fluttering about, making yourself useful where you can. You aren't able to fight, not this threat, but your obedience in cleaning armor- weapons when an Astartes allows- and other such duties has earned you enough to stay where your fellows have left.

Many of the other human refugees have been shipped off at this point, to become the Militarium's logistical problem. You and a few others however have earned your keep. At least in the eyes of the Black Templars.

You'll be far safer here than in a Militarium camp stuffed in with hundreds to thousands of others; Like animals waiting to be shipped off world.

You'll be far safer here with him.

There you are. He can spot you from across the cathedral, and a part of him wonders why it has such an effect on him. His hearts beat faster and his neck tenses; It feels like how he does whenever he's about to fight, but also distinctly different. It almost makes him feel like he's sick from an illness he can't explain.

The moment you hear him however, knowing the sound of an astartes this late and this far away from his brothers could only be him, your back straightens. You've been leaning over for awhile, and your body makes uncooperative cracks as you stand at his approach.

He stops in front of you, at the bottom of the ambulatory steps that rise up to the main altar. You stand at the top of them, quickly moving aside so he can come closer. When he does, you can feel his gaze through the lens of his helmet. It always feels heavy, even when his helmet isn't tilted you way you swear you can feel whenever his eyes are on you.

With both hands he unseals his helmet with a soft hiss, grasping it by the rim before handing it to you. It’s almost too heavy for your grip, but you manage to hold it close to your chest and avoid dropping it. Meanwhile he takes a knee, elbow on his knee as he drops his head in prayer.

His chainsword shifts on his back, over top of a long, tattered cape that's stained with mud and blood at the bottom hem. Astartes don't leave their armor during war, and so the cloth holds the weeks long stench of iron and rotting flesh. It simply burns however, until a few minutes later and then you can no longer smell. For the best, more than likely.

The cathedral is cast in complete silence, his shoulders shifting underneath plates of ceramite. He always is whenever he prays, unlike his brothers in the few times you've seen them. Perhaps it's just a quirk of his. Or maybe they're the odd ones.

Then again, they aren't the ones visiting an empty cathedral in the dead of night, only to meet a single person. Over and over again.

When he rises, he gently takes his helmet from your hands and latches it onto his belt. You speak up for the first time since he appeared.

"Have you made good progress out there? The weather seems to only be getting worse."

He looks down at you; His short, hastily chopped hair dry and pressed in odd places from the pressure of his helmet. It's mostly dry now, but you can tell it was wet not long ago. He must've taken his helmet off in the rain and was instantly soaked to the bone.

"The Emperor watches over us. We will prevail despite the deluge."

Said deluge batters on the tall glass windows of the cathedral, and thunder cracks not much later. The sound gives you a momentary jolt. This particular storm has been going all day, but the area has been battered with rainstorms for weeks now on and off. It might not slow them down, but you can see dried chunks of mud where they've had to trudge through it to progress. Most of it is washed away on him now, the rain having cleaned his armor significantly.

Your hands grasp each other tightly, no longer having his helmet to act as some sort of grounding.

"I tried to pray like you do, this morning." His eyes noticeably brighten ever the slightest, as your voice echos in the empty cathedral. "I wanted to pray to the Emperor that you stayed safe out there."

You don't know if he finds it amusing; But the corner of his mouth quirks upward ever so slightly anyways.

"Then pray for our victory, not our safety. What matters is that we succeed," He states.

You hear the mechanics in his armor shift as he leans slightly more on his left leg than right. It's like the armor is simply an extension of himself, and you suppose it is.

He is the first astartes you've even seen, so your knowledge is sparse. A small part of you has so many questions you'd wish to ask him, not knowing if he'd even entertain you with an answer.

You're fascinated by him; You wonder if he thinks the same of you. The way he acts lends you to think so, but you don't know how to feel about it.

In the corner of your eye you notice movement, and turn to the right just a bit and see someone walking across the nave. But when they catch sight of you and one of the Black Templars, the scurry out of the main hall like death was on their heels.

It isn't the first time someone has made a conscious effort to avoid you, now that you have an astartes taking such an interest in you. People are keen to spend as little time around them as possible- as despite them being the primary source protecting you all, they have more than displayed their fickle nature. One misspoken word and you could be gone. It's happened before. You know of a few faces that have disappeared with little a word.

You must look away from him for too long, as suddenly his armored hand grasps your jaw, turning your face back to him. The awkward angle due to his height makes your neck ache, and you grasp at the seams of his gauntlet for any sort of support.

"Are you going to try and run like they did?"

He says, watching you like he's looking for something more than a simple answer.

You wonder what he sees. If he notices the way your heart has begun to race in fear and something else, as he overtakes your vision. That something else was only for those rare moments of solitude where your reasoning left you, and your mind wandered to areas it shouldn't. If you'd known any better, you might've thought such things were blasphemous, or something of the sort.

Suddenly, you remember that he's waiting for an answer; You watch as the scars on his face move when he shifts his jaw.

"No."

He takes a step closer and with no more room your back presses against the altar just behind you. You risk nearly bending over it from how close he is, his dominant leg taking root just close enough that your legs have to part to let his knee past.

The shadow of the window mullions decorate the back of his armor, the light making the shadows against his face even harsher. You can even see the shadows of large rain droplets against his pauldrons, sliding down as if they've actually fallen on him. You can hear them hit the glass as the wind whistles outside and rattles the glass.

You watch him wondering; His eyes and face are completely unreadable. Astartes are so stoic, any little emotion is held invisible deep within themselves. Trying to figure out what he's thinking is an impossible task, though it's clear the interest he has in you is no longer just curiosity. That thought makes your heart pound against your chest as if it's trying to escape, your blood hot.

His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

It feels like he's toying with you; Experimenting with something new as he watches the way your soft skin gives under his armor. Your hands and gentle skin have faint crumbles of candle wax and ink on them from your work, as they grasp his armor.

You're terrified. You want more of him. You'll be happy to burn if that's what it requires.

"You'll come with me, when we are finished here."

You whisper his name, telling him yes as if you were foolish enough to think you had a choice in the matter. No one but him is here to hear it.

If someone was you wouldn't be able to see them from the way his massive armored form overtakes almost all of your vision, swallowing you in a sea of shadow and pitch black armor. They would see as he leans down, his thumb leaving your lips. You can feel his hot breath on your skin. The way he almost seems to suffocate you with how much of his body looms over you, just to get close. You can hear your own heartbeat so you just know he can, his eyes dilated and nearly total black.

Your back hurts pressing against the edge of the altar, feeling vulnerable underneath his unreadable stare. The fabric of your clothing bunches in places and rises up on your body, catching on the seams of his leg plates. His armor might be cold, but astartes run hot; Like their blood is boiling, so beneath that metal chill is the heat from the skin visible on his face and neck. You think if the cathedral was any colder, his hot breath would be visible.

His lips hover over yours, brushing as if he's so thoroughly detailing every step of this. Savoring each moment, or perhaps just toying with you. Watching the way a human so much smaller than him writhes under his grip at his mercy. You want to finish it, but the hand clamped around your jaw won't allow you, as much as you want to yearn and beg and plead to k-

'Brother. Return from toying with the refugees, the chaplain has returned with an update.'

Suddenly audible is a deep voice shaken by vox distortion emanating from his helmet; His head turns ever so slightly in it's direction. The bow of his upper lip brushes over yours as he does so. His brow furrows and he seems visibly irritated, interrupted during the worst possible time. You are as well, though it's more of desperation as you try to silence the way the your body aches for just him.

But as quick as it had begun it all ends, as he rises to his full height and removes his hand from your jaw. It complains with the promise of a hefty bruising, as he uses the same gauntlet to one handed slip his helmet back onto his head.

You can feel him stare at you even through the lenses, as he shifts in his armor and walks past where you stand splayed against the altar, clothes a mess. Your legs wobble as if about to give out from underneath you without his support, a weight like a rock in your lower belly.

He walks down the ambulatory in silence and leaves you alone once more, but you know it won't be for long.

#if you want me to name him and design him feel free to say! but for now you can make him the astartes ken doll of your dreams #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #black templar x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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toxicmetalzine · 9 days

Text

Rise of Kronos

RISE OF KRONOS Announces Rerecorded Debut and Upcoming New Album! Get the details right here: https://toxicmetalzine.com/post/rise-of-kronos-announces-rerecorded-debut-and-upcoming-new-album

#rise of kronos #grindcore #progressive metal #black metal #melodic death metal #extreme metal #heavy metal #swedish black metal #iron maiden #darkthrone #megadeth #deathcore #brutal death metal #death metal #napalm death #pantera #metallica

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ladythornofrivia · 4 months

Text

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Seven)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: lady greenstar’s ceremony is all but merry, and the offer that could change the course of her life forever.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader is neutral; neither a green or black supporter, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: sorry it took forever to write the chapter! It’s finally here! Woo! Reader’s backstory is finally revealed! Woo! If you enjoy, please leave a comment.

Chapter Seven: The Price of Heart

On the proclamation from the Iron Throne, King Viserys granted a ceremony and anointed a young maiden to unite both factions, Blacks and Greens, and renamed her as Lady Greenstar, a star that befell and shook the cores of Westeros, to which have known for causing disruption and awakened in the realm.

Apart from previous accomplishment on saving Princess Helaena and Prince Jacaerys, Lady Greenstar, a newcomer to Westeros, has its gaze is as deadly as a thorn. Upon a gaze of a maiden, men’s hearts fickle in delight, and women’s hearts enraged with fright. And among others, she is nothing but an air of mystery, but her appearance is no more than averagely simple and unimpressive (claimed by Mushroom). Lady Greenstar, whose maiden name is unknown, the time of Viserys’s reign may have yet to be remain, as Lady Greenstar is in an absolute self-merry and encourage the nobles and commoners alike to a celebrate at her unimportant arrival at a tedious ceremony.

~Your POV~

The nightmare hadn’t stopped.

You want to destroy—set ablaze everything into ashes.

In a soundless blight rising in your chest, you managed to gather yourself in the midst of ceremony. You wanted to scream. Heating anger risen within you; you are nowhere near happy with the proceedings. You just wanted to go home, anticipated that this no more than a fever dream, a weirdly filter episodic moment that is meant to be unseen.

Unable to gaze upon the crowd, despite your head is held high, your roundish headpiece wrapped atop your tucked hairstyle; your hairline styled and slicked back, yet your longish manes flowed and adorned your figure, clad in a floor length ivory gown, your arms heavies a wide bishop sleeves, but your forearms are fitted, ends of your v-pointed sleeves rested on the back of your hands. Your bodice, from bust to waist, the ivory corset is encrusted in pearls and gold embroidery, aligned and patterned with black and green stones as your long skirts in mermaid-shaped flowing, not strictly.

Bowing to Blacks and Greens, the ever so watchful gazes on the crowd are perplexed, yet so many spectators are grateful for your deeds. Some women’s gaze directly lanced at your direction with envy, perhaps displeasure of King Viserys’s announcement. As for men, however, it’s unreadable for you, but with unknown gazes may have yet proceed to either have notable rancor or the deepest of illest intentions.

In Westeros, you knew that you could trust no man. For now, trusting the Targaryens is your only option, a sole bargain, a wager to your existence. Nothing has ever come to simple or as festive. All you wanted was to stay in the sidelines, watching the events unfold, not to be a part of one. The real question is: who sent you here, and what was the real purpose? Of course not, you’re just a simple and honest modern woman—or at least what anyone thought of your outward appearance, which prevailed by the designed precision of Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra’s plan of softening image.

You weren’t meant to be here.

The scream emerged.

All eyes snapped away from your direction. One man grabbed—dragged away and pointed it’s knife at Princess Helaena’s throat at the centered floor, the guards had their swords up, as one of them demanded for the man to release the princess.

“None should accept a woman as a knight on the throne,” the man spattered, yellow teeth gleaming, his voice grating with delight, continuing to drag the princess away bit by bit.

“Mother,” Helaena pleaded quietly, the knife pressed onto her ivory skin, trying not to flail.

“It’s either the cause for the great nobles, or the cause of the war.”

Alicent is frightened for her daughter’s fate.

And so, you watched, palm clenched and unclenched. Hands behind your back, your body veiled with a silver sparkling cloak, but one hand seized the spare knife—your knife you had in your clutched purse, moving with caution as you descend the steps without anyone spotting your intentions.

“Let her go,” you said, before turning your eyes to theirs.

Soothe the realm.

The men flabbergasted at your appeased state. “What?”

“Did I stutter,” you said, ambling, the cloak floated a little. “You’re ruining the King’s celebration. Do you want to be executed? You’re in the presence of Targaryens.”

“I won’t lay rest until I see no woman standing beside the Iron Throne. I won’t serve by the likes of you!”

Shaking your head as you said, “Who said it’s about me?”

The man uttered no response but a heaving breath, near Helaena, furrowed with concern.

Unblinking, your head tilted to the side. “You want me, right?”

The man carefully laid his eyes on you.

“You don’t want the princess,” you resumed, drew nearer. “You want me.”

Soothe the realm.

Your eyes indicated to one of the guards to hold him down, but none succeeded on reading your body language. Looking at your side, Queen Alicent’s widened eyes glazed with warning, a reminder to soften the image. Prince Aemond still abide, his violet eye gleamed, his eye stated something more, wanting more of the anticipation of what you’ll do next.

“Let her go, and I’ll give you what you want,” you negotiated.

“What makes you think I could negotiate with such a pathetic woman?”

“Because I’m not a liar,” you declared, hand stretched. “Release her.”

After moments of hesitation, Princess Helaena has been freed into your arms, shaking. You lightly shoved her towards Alicent as you walked onward without looking elsewhere.

And before you knew it, a knife stabbed behind your belly.

The gasps ensued as the fight broke out, leaving the Blacks and Greens emerged with apprehension, still safe and guarded.

Turning around, the knife you held plunged into the backstabber’s throat, but missed—instead it became a slight deep scratch on the cheek and his hand smacked against your cheekbone. Falling down, you pulled yourself back up again and knocked him out unconscious and rushed to Helaena’s side again and escorted her out, leaving the guards to assign fate to the intruders.

The fate became crueler; the man separated you and Helaena, shoving Helaena aside the intruder hooked you by the arms, trapped. When another opponent came, you lifted yourself in the air, and punted the opponent’s chest with both of your feet, leaving you and the large man collapsed. Rolling back, you gathered yourself again and escorted Helaena back at the corridor.

A young boy screamed—Prince Lucerys—his arm being yanked through the crowd. Briskly, you aid to their side, shoving the crowd apart, you casted your cloak—aiming at the foe, and lanced the man’s neck, trails of blood exploded, smearing the young prince’s face and placed him back Rhaenyra’s side.

A tall figure suddenly shielded you; the knife flew at your direction; Aemond deflected the attempted shot with his spare dagger. Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra rushed altogether—guards protected all and ushered back into the corridor, leaving you breathless.

The pain has been numbed due to the shock implanted.

Far back at the pillar, you watched Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanging with altercation while you find yourself leaning on the stoned pillar with your left hand clutched your bleeding waist beneath the white dress.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Rhaenyra stated in shaky breath.

“Of course not,” Alicent seethed. “King Viserys should’ve thought of bringing Lady Greenstar to the Iron Throne to soothe the realm before the commotion erupts.”

“I hadn’t known,” Rhaenyra argued back, cradling Lucerys in her arms.

“You did this. Lady Greenstar warned that this would happen. A private ceremony should’ve been suffice.”

“We need Lady Greenstar to unite both factions—father suggested to that.”

“Your ideas may influence others, but you’ll never influence with me from the misguidance of your indulgence.”

“I have made no declarations and decisions—it is my father who has done it so!”

Bellows of altercation continued as Prince Jaecerys stood nearby you, given you an awkward tight-lipped expression with his hands laid rest upfront.

Blacks and Greens watched two ladies quarreled with venom as your chest heaving. Gazing below onto your hand, the gold ring sparked on your fourth finger; you brought it up to your lips and kissed it.

Everything will be alright, a gentle voice reminded.

Lidded eyes hazed as the hand placed on your back shoulder; Princess Helaena walked over to your side and consoled you with diminutive smile.

Instead of returning the offer, you patted Helaena’s hand your half-lidded eyes in a suggestion that everything is alright. The concentration in your mind has been misplaced that Helaena began to tie your strands to tiny braids. You’ve inspected everyone. So far, it went smoothly—you’ve found no wounds, but when your eyes meet Green sons, your head inclined to a subtle bow. While Prince Aegon bowed back with his smugness, Prince Aemond is as elegant and unreadable. His eye still lay onto you as you faced back, watching the princess and the queen.

Altercations and debate went ongoing.

The aggravating pain hadn’t ceased.

“Stop,” you groaned.

The abrasion struck you so hard that you let a long groan, your head hung back, relied on a cold pillar.

“Lady Greenstar,” Jacaerys said.

“I’m fine,” you assured, eyes watery. “I’m fine.”

Daemon, no doubt, is suspicious. Shielding Helaena with your might, you held onto her spare hand.

The quarrel wasn’t far from over as you sauntered, the belly scorched again, pinching your nerves and coiled your stomach to a point of punishment you couldn’t withstand.

The cough unleashed, veiling the spots of blood.

Someone…

And collapsed onto your knees, trembling with cold sweat, fell onward.

“Lady Greenstar,” Jacaerys called aloud, as he caught you into arms, soon follow by your feet, your body weakened, slipped away.

“You’re safe now,” you said, darting at Aemond, offering him your sweetest expression laid on your lips.

Gradually, your eyes fluttered with slow blinks, choking. Then your vision faded to nothing.

~Aemond’s POV~

“My Queen, Lady Greenstar has collapsed,” Criston announced.

Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra halted, and veered back to your lifeless body in Jacaerys’s arms.

Both women’s anger replaced with fear. “No…” Rhaenyra uttered.

“Take her to the Maester at this instant. We can’t afford to lose her,” Alicent ordered.

All the while, Aemond, the king’s second son, is devastated, powerless and hopeless as the life slipped between your parted lips. Piqued as he was eyeing on the golden ring rested on your fourth finger.

~Your POV~

What the hell was that?

“The life flashes before your eyes,” it said.

Your head snapped to the noise.

“Poor little woman, who’s life has been tormented one after the other,” a voice rang into your ears in a darkened void. “A life of a woman is no ordinary, but will soon be free.”

“Who are you?”

“My, you’re just a thing of beauty. A shame that comes price with it—ever so ethereal but with a demonic spirit residing in you since your childhood, all but bad luck,” it taunted. “You have killed and tortured the mundane, both men and women, especially in your days where you were trying to save your dying lover—born a thief and a liar—the evil men have taught you well.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“I want to make an offer, an offer to which it might entice you. Right now, your very soul is on the bridge between life and death.”

“I know that!”

“Of course you knew. But you didn’t believe that we exist.”

“All are anything but real.”

The voice’s rang into your ears with its taunting laugh. “But if you wish to remain alive and well, I offered you choices, one which the cost of your life to be rekindled. One which you cannot turn your back into—and I offer you this; stay in Westeros and serve the realm, serve the dynasty and find a new purpose and bond. Even if it means of forgetting your dead lover. Or, the Gods will offer a sweet and merciful death—your pathetic and tragic life will soon meet its end and face your maker.”

“I want to go home,” you objected.

“Going home is no longer an option; if you go there, chances are your death will be as quickly repulsive and vile; death is near at your doorstep as soon as your consciousness blurred.”

“What do you mean?”

“The men from your former clan are hunting you down. They have found you. You thought running away from a syndicate after burning everything to ashes would be simple.”

“Why Westeros? Why send me there? Who sent me here?”

“Those questions are irrelevant; time is ticking.”

“At what cost?”

“The price you’ll pay, it’s either your eyes, ear or mouth. Or I will decide for you.”

Goosebumps flooded over you, heart struck with quiver.

“I can’t,” you whimpered. “I can’t!” Fell onto the ground, hands veiled your face, walls you’ve built tarnished as your cries echoed through the void, cried longer than you should’ve.

“Sweet summer child,” it cooed. “Time is running short. The elder man of Hightower wants to burn your body.”

Another shiver ran.

“I know everything. Submit yourself to me, and I shall grant the desire—the offer I gave you—your life will start anew. What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Not today.”

“Good!” the voice rang, enchant. “I knew you have come to made your decision.”

The green light sprang and ran into your heart—your voice reached high into bellows and wails. Nails digging into your chest firmly, nails dragged with blood, already on the floor, knees on your chest. Ears rang in high-pitched noise; ears bleed as nose, and mouth drained in red flow, crying in agony.

“Don’t worry, child, you’ll soon meet the fate that you’ve been longing for,” it said. “You’ll find your purpose here. The history of Fire & Blood, alongside yours, will be rewritten.”

In that moment, you knew the unknown being wasn’t lying.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216

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barbika1508 · 6 months

Text

Vicious malevolent dragon (Dragon!Min Yoongi x Reader)

Words: 6,1k

Genre: Dragon AU, Romance, Soulmates/ Mates, Smut

Pairing: Dragon!Min Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Mention of torture and abuse // Knotting, Possessiveness, Praise kink

Summary: Rural villages all hide secrets. Not this one. This one rejoices in the taking of a life once a year to pay for their foolish assumption of safety very much delusional. Not only does the chosen maiden get to live, she finds the love of her life who would burn the world down for her.

Author’s note: Hydria – water jar (pottery) This was inspired by a fic on AO3 which for the life of me I can’t track down.

/ BTS Masterlist /

The smell of smoke fills my lungs from top to bottom making it hard to breathe the burning taking up my attention as my eyes spill with tears, cries choked out of me specially thanks to the jostling of my body, tremors and harsh holds leaving nasty bruises and wounds in their wake.

Though haziness my attempt at escaping has been prevented as they’ve captured me. My feeble attempts at punching and kicking earn me harsher push backs, as I’m slammed onto the ground, my limbs pulled uncomfortably as restrains fasten inhumanely leaving me bound, unmoving and crying out in pain. The self-preservation part of me has me wiggle around.

In retaliation I receive a punishment in the form of a hit delivered to my right side cracking my ribs. Another follows as my legs get pulled twisted one over another the restraints digging into my ankles splitting skin and drawing blood.

Another scream leaves my parted mouth as the smoke remains enveloping me, the dizziness it’s bringing hurting the most. The ash-iness of it almost comforts me, lack of warmth terrifying as my body rests bare to many unwanted eyes the chill of the night air keeping me further awake into the nightmare.

Grubby hands force rings, bracelets, necklaces pounds of golden jewellery over my restrained limbs, breaking and twisting fingers and bones the added weight another restraint from freedom.

The chanting and cheering from people rise in volume, gleeful laughter piercing the air, manic in comparison to my torment and despair sinking its claws in me air something I’m able to sob for barely getting any as the townsfolk swing their blazing torches near my face my body, forcing me to inhale the smoke that’s ruining and eating up my lungs.

Through half blinded gaze I spot disfigured greedy grins, colourful and flower-patterned attire’s mocking me as they lead me towards death.

Even children aren’t merciful their giggle’s terrifying in the back as they shout insults that I’m sure they will get chided for come tomorrow. The devils come out at night they say.

A cry tears its way from my throat leaving me with an iron taste. I barely am able to spit it out the bile of the smoke halted as they slam me onto something metallic, the hit to the back of my head leaving my vision spinning as well as my thoughts, pain mercilessly keeping me awake. I register the way they pull my hands above my head, my twisted legs fixated.

The smoke of torches returns drying out my tears, as my head gets positioned to lie facing the empty vast night sky, stars beyond unrecognizable as the darkness overpowers the fog before my eyes. I can spot licks of flames from the torches that for the first time since regaining consciousness reman at bay as a man’s voice booms in the clearing, his croaking laughter ending whatever speech or words of supposed wisdom he pridefully spoke.

It goes eerie quiet while dark spots begin to swim in my eyes, consciousness finally slipping as I’m ready to accept death, to be relieved of the evens and the final moments of my life. I am almost thankful for the lack of vision as I’m spared from clear images of my disfiguration – of my own murder.

The roar from a beast is heard loud and clear rattling everyone till the bones, the sound petrifying as it echoes in the clear of the night.

As the crowd of murderess roar in triumph, cheers of supposed victory overpowering, deafening me in the protest only then do I feel fear sink into me. Pain demands to be felt there is no way out of it but to endure. But panic has its way of crawling under one’s skin, seizing up the body and mind taking mindless control of one’s actions and reactions.

The roaring of the beast whom we were all told since birth to always hide and run away from. And yet those fears I’ve had since I was a babe don’t compare to the horrifying shouts of joy and delight coming from none other than humans.

The monsters, devils that begin to leave to their festivities, they are the terrors to fear – their ruthlessness harsher than any mindless creature can deliver.

Still persistent my mind stays awake even if everything else begins to shut down, body ablaze with pain I cannot even comprehend anymore – cannot begin to describe as it has no beginning and no end.

I barely flinch at a whistle ringing out near my ear something like a breath fanning near my right side, a touch to my entangled hair adorned with jewels and gold unfazing me.

‘’You should have said yes to my marriage proposition.’’ The voice says with elation tutting after ‘’Such a shame.’’

The roar and flap of what I can only assume are wings sound closer the humming of the man taunting renewing tears behind my eyelids ‘’Sacrifices are always fun don’t you think?!’’

For starters I wake up gasping for air, lungs working double the speed to regain the loss of oxygen. My body lunges forth sitting upright fingers curling in fists as my eyes dart around the dark room searching for the danger present. Lucky, nothing of sorts looms anywhere near besides the dying embers coming from my left and the midst of the spacious room the bonfire serving to warm me during these cold nights and to cook meals from.

Despite the emptiness my senses remain on alert even as my hands fall over my lap exhaustion following. Drenched in sweat I smack my dry mouth a few times the taste unpleasant the nightmare having rattled me, the remnants of it causing shivers to run down my spine, goosebumps a side effect.

I contemplate moving not really wanting to leave the safe haven of the makeshift bed built from rich furs but the dryness in my throat only gets more persistent and the uncomfortableness of my night shirt clinging to my back growing.

Pushing myself up I crawl over until my bare feet press against the stone of the carved-out floors that have been smoothed out. Reaching for my boot’s my body aches muscles tense, even as I push myself onto my feet.

Stopping near the dying heart, I blow onto the embers a few times adding two smaller logs onto them the fire quick to catch on rekindling and growing anew providing more light to the closed off space.

The cold in the air isn’t bothersome or all that noticeable to my overheated skin, but it brings back that familiar odd sensation of feeling too exposed. Even if I am the only occupant of the mountain. Heading to the opposite side from the furs I peek into the closed off chamber the mountains of gold and treasures strewn across the cave room, additions of books and weapons thrown to the side the piles noticeably smaller signalling the novelty to the hoard.

Sidestepping past them, I reach the makeshift wardrobe that has been halfway built clothes lying folded instead of hung. By passing them I grab for the fur cloak I’m most familiar with, one than completely covers my body and keeps me warm no matter what I wear underneath.

Feeling slightly more comforted I make my way back into the living space towards a particular chest which contains some meat to be eaten tomorrow, along with one piece of bread and randomly picked fruit from two days ago. At the cheat’s side lies a hydria thankfully replenished with water from the stream just outside around the corner of the hidden cave I’m safely tucked in.

I greedily drink the cool liquid not caring of the possibility of a sore throat as I’m more starved of liquid than I assumed I was.

Once the water spills past my lips I slow down my haste catching my breath, at least feeling somewhat better. Tucking the jar back into its place I offer a glance at the empty furs, the appeal non-existent anymore.

My feet lead me towards the exit on their own passing the narrow passage newly built, a huge boulder having been laid in front of what used to be a vast open space into the cave now concealed.

The bite of the cold I welcome as it nips at my cheeks and nose awakening me further. The tiredness still lingers it always does but the change is welcomed as I lay my eyes on the vast forest stretching bellow. Walking to the edge of the ledge my knees buckle as I make myself comfortable sitting on the ground burrowing in the cloak, consoled by the smell of smoke that clings to the fur.

Yawning quietly, I observe the area my eyes drawn to the light protruding in the darkness peeking over hilltops neatly tucked away in shelter. I scoff turning my attention upwards to the half full moon my heart always fluttering whenever I see it and the stars. The constellations as always draw themselves inside my mind connecting right in front of my eyes brining a smile to my lips.

To think I almost lost my sight.

I sigh as my body begins to ache the familiar ghost of old pains arising, specially whenever the moon is nearing its fulness the magic tug from it always demanding to be felt. But as I once felt fear of its power, I’ve embraced its light instead.

I shudder as a breeze wafts past ruffling my hair that lays unruly around my head and shoulders. My teeth chatter together for a mere moment. I welcome the cold that cools my skin having turned it rosy, pink.

Closing my eyes, I let my head lull towards the sky, an old lullaby surfacing in the back of my mind brisk to make an appearance as my voice comes out in a hum the melody getting lost in the air.

Soon enough the familiar flapping of wings pierces gently through the odd haze I’ve lulled myself into. Upkeeping the melody my hum softens as my eyes fall open upturned towards the moon, a shadow passing by it – something that would alarm any normal being.

And yet here I am with my heart fluttering in my chest, my woes melting away, tension lessening from my entire being. As I fall silent the sound disappears leaving me all alone the whispers from the wind playing with the mountain peaks making its own song along. I try pinpointing his entrance liking to pretend I have a keen sense for him. As I glance above my head half expecting his descend to be dramatic, I’m left with a smile as I turn to look to my left straightening my back meeting with silver orbs resembling igneous silver.

The hulking beast that towers higher than any common house, larger than three wagons combined, bigger than life itself I’d say begins to shift, shrinking in size the sounds of bones shifting and cracking not fear inducting as it used to be. Throughout its change I keep my eyes fixated on its eyes relieved of the loneliness from the past two days getting erased instantaneously.

Remaining seated on my spot with my legs crossed – mostly due to his many chidings and scolding’s whenever I sit near the edge – I watch silently as a humanoid form of a man appears from the shadows two horns remaining atop of the male’s head his silhouette entrancing as always.

Stepping closer I pick up on coins cluttering together a sack revealing itself thanks to the light of the moon a moment further. Besides, it lay a couple of dead rabbits strung together they being small prey animals eliciting a raised eyebrow in question as I look up once more, glad to set my eyes on my beloved’s softened features.

‘’Looking out to get sick again?’’ his voice comes out gruff almost animalistic his loot and prey left forgotten dropped as he walks over quick to kneel, bare arms making contact as he attempts to pull his own fur cloak which I’m wearing tighter together as if to protect me.

‘’Alas not tonight.’’ I tease him, frown remaining on his face as his irises remain glowing silver taking me in. His warm hand comes to cup my cheek switching up as he presses the back of his fingers over my forehead ‘’I’m alright.’’ I roll my eyes pushing at his hand trying to reassure him knowing full well where this is going as he lets out a growl as I intertwine our hands together ‘’You’re here, I’m more than fine.’’ I switch tactic but smile genuinely as I take him in, his dark hair familiar horns sticking upwards, features sharp as he is not entirely convinced.

‘’As sweet as your words may be, don’t keep me a fool human.’’ He growls sounding annoyed but for a fact I know he isn’t. Keeping back a chuckle I end up nodding trying to put on a serious expression breaking immediately feeling nothing but love and adoration for him.

‘’I’d never ever dream of doing that oh mighty dragon from the north.’’ I find myself playfully squeaking in laughter as he growls threateningly but makes quick work of grabbing me. With ease I get lifted into his embrace thrown over his shoulder the change of position eliciting giggles to rush past my lips.

‘’She giggles.’’ He grumbles stepping over to his loot ‘’You should be begging for your life, human not giggling like a child at my presence.’’

Picking up his things I muse at the dragon holding onto his hips to not swing so wildly ‘’Can’t help it I’m afraid. You’re a very charming dragon after all.’’

His chest grumbles I’m sure pleased with my words. He carries us inside silent making sure to lay me down gently on the furs his handling bringing brief vertigo, which gets chased away swiftly his hand touching under my chin ‘’Be good.’’ Is all he says as he gets up and walks across the room storing the rabbits first while at the same time granting me the view of his bare skin and glorious backside as he bends over.

I tut to myself grinning widely once he spares me a look grumbling something to himself.

‘’Practically oozing charm.’’ I compliment further even as he straightens and ignores me heading off to check on his hoard.

Smiling to myself feeling hot thanks to his mere presence – as the fire is dying once more – I shrug of his cloak throwing my boots from the furs to burrow beneath them the difference of having him here tremendous.

And yet as I lie down and wait for him wearing nothing but his shirt, my joy diminishes the space I’m back in bringing the nightmare to resurface as I remember the clammy feeling and terror I felt when I woke up. My gaze darts to the small fire and the smoke as it rises towards the ceiling, a small opening a crack in the rocks enabling some to escape.

I can hear coins and heavier object in various sizes clattering. It should be reassuring that he is here, I should be fine just knowing he is at arm’s reach. But as I sit up my limbs begin to shake, cold sweat making an appearance as what I feel like my soul gets weighted – the heft of the gold I was forced to wear that night remains as a ghost feeling over my skin.

A whole-body shudder runs through me my vision getting slightly blurry but not from tears. I tear my gaze away from the fire sniffling quietly pushing at the furs prompting the makeshift pillow behind me lying on my hip.

Yoongi stalks forward silently still nude as the day he was born – hatched as he’d explained once – gaze intent as it fixates on me. I preoccupy myself with fluffing up the furs not wanting to have the conversation right now. Reaching the end, he’s quick to lie down and crawl closer taking my hand gently into his stopping me from moving.

Unable to look at him I stare at our joined hand’s letting him pull me into his embrace the warmth he is emitting familiar and like a fresh breath of air itself. Greedily I wrap my own arms around him hating that my body begins trembling, hating the lump in my throat and numbness settling in my chest as flashes of colour appear before my eyes.

‘’Shhhh I’m here beloved.’’ His voice is soft ‘’I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.’’

His caresses mean everything chasing away the torturous heavy weight of gold feeling from my skin, soothing my body tremors, easing my breathing as I match his heartbeat hand splayed over his bare chest between us. He attempts to hum a melody which impresses me tremendously given he has spent some time in his dragon form voice having gone unused.

It’s his effort and willingness, patience that keep me comforted and with a fluttery heart. Vicious malevolent dragon huh?

His tongue darts out licking a part of my cheek the action still after all this time having me jerk away his arms preventing me from backing away too much. Scrunching up my nose as I smile turning, he’s utmost serious as he stares at me, silver reappearing in his mostly brown irises.

‘’I don’t think you can fix night terrors that easily, my love.’’ I note reaching up to cup his face running both thumbs over the apple of his cheeks, the growl and showing of sharpened teeth not at all intimidating even as his frown deepens.

‘’You don’t know for sure.’’ He’s quick to retort long tongue making an appearance to which I attempt to cover his mouth, not at all bothered as his tongue brushes over the inside of my palm brining more chuckles to resurface.

‘’My love, my heart, my everything it’s alright.’’ I speak softly feeling how my heart blooms for the dragon holding onto me tightly ‘’You’ve done more than enough truly.’’ I pull my hand back and point silently at myself ‘’The dreams will pass, your mage friend said so himself. Don’t fret to much over me. Your scales are going to go grey to soon.’’ I muse towards the end, making a point to grab onto his left horn him letting me get away with it telling me he’s putty in my arms.

‘’I don’t care about that.’’ he grumbles remaining serious ‘’You’re my only concern of course I’m going to fret.’’ Leaning in I don’t stop him as he’s quick to connect our lips sharp teeth making an appearance but never drawing blood, as he kisses with somewhat of a buried need that’s only growling given the way how his grip tightens around me, strong hands firm but not hurtful.

It’s easy for him to upkeep the kisses his passion bringing a smoky thang to how he taste’s something I’ve gotten used to. Gasping once his tongue prods at my lips he breaks it off moving over my cheek, licking over the small cut I’ve manage to achieve by descending to the woods yesterday to pick some pomegranates.

I quiver upon feeling the skin healing itself, his saliva having magical proprieties. It’s how he literally mended me together so to speak.

Left broken and chained to an altar barely clinging onto my life he descended that very same night to claim the offerings of the village having been mostly of produce and gold, the year clearly being twisted into something vile – a human sacrifice.

It wasn’t hard to hear or feel him his beastly form something out of this world my brain far too gone to comprehend him in the first place. But through my blurry gaze his eyes were the first thing I’ve set my gaze upon. His deafening roar filled me with some type of energy – it was as if he called out for my soul to tether itself right back to my body. The warm he exuded felt scorching hot unbearable but not like the torches – his heat and warmth were like a blanket draped over me.

The few times I’ve asked him, prodded more so for an answer why he saved me in the first place given I was broken and beyond salvation even in my own opinion I’ve never gotten a clear reply. He either smiled knowingly or set his jaw tight remembering the night something causing him pain, himself.

‘’You were meant for me.’’

Those famous words of his still to this day keep ringing in my head from time to time.

***

‘’Holy fuck you feel so good.’’ I hiss in the beginning ending up whining, my body feeling like it’s on fire. Given the man in front of me literally can breathe fire, is just a bonus.

His chest grumbles against the palm of my right hand where it rests near his heart. Going past that detail my mind is entirely preoccupied with the feeling of him, as I continue for right now slow descent onto his cock, which is filling me already impossibly so. But given our practice and mainly his determination not to harm me I’m left tearless and aching for the pleasure, for the extasy that’s promised and within my grasp.

‘’Hmm, do I?’’ comes his raspy tone, a hint of smoke leaving past his lips his struggle with staying still evident in the tight hold he has over my hips upholding me more so than I am myself, as I sink down on him, stopping just above his knot the actions coming from his side. I reopen my eyes to look at him in question and amusement, finding his eyes screwed shut his control slipping which he’s trying to desperately reign in.

But there are more black scales making an appearance, humanoid form morphing into his dragon side the sight only arousing further, the tinge of danger always present in these moments, making it addicting whenever he begins losing some of his saint like control.

Speechless my mouth opens and closes uselessly, thighs starting to shake increasingly the harder I try to ride him, his hands pulling me down not entirely helpful.

‘’AH FUCK!’’ I find myself shouting at a particularly harsh pull coming from his end, making me sink almost entirely onto him, knot kissing my lower lips ‘’Ahhh Y-Yoongi-yahh…’’ I cry breathless tears glossing my eyes, my body trying to fold together which of course his hands prevent to do so, his right one suddenly getting placed over my chest.

‘’You are doing so great, beloved.’’ He praises coming closer, muscles tensing under my hands as his hands switch from my hips, arms wrapping around me touch tender tracing my skin ‘’So amazing. My pretty mate.’’ His tone lowers but grown more affectionate, kisses beginning to be spread over my face.

‘’Mate.’’ I repeat after him, enjoying the vibrations emitting from his chest, letting my hands trace his defined chest. I notice the amused smile he sports letting me to my own devices, the need to reach our releases momentarily not a priority.

‘’Yes, my mate. Mine. You are mine.’’ He confirms words holding heaviness. Without fail it makes me feel that we were destined for each other since birth. It’s what he loves to remind me, oh big dragon with an inkling to prophecy Yoongi is always so assured we are meant to be. I’ve long ago started believing him.

‘’Mine.’’ Again, I repeat eyes fleeting to his own, the power he holds nothing for me to be afraid of, the heaviness his irises hold. But also, the love, the amour, the baring of his soul I see whenever I look at him. I must admit it is the most amazing feeling in the world to know, be aware and accept someone’s love and adoration the only hard thing not to get to overwhelmed with it at times.

‘’Mine.’’ He agrees closing the distance mindful of bumping his head against my own – something he’s always been cautious about – horns a thing of magnificence even in their trait of harmfulness that could bring me. I’ve never shied away from them, eagerness a human trait he told me. It hasn’t stopped me before and it won’t stop me now, as I meet him halfway. It has been barely 2 days that he was absent but each time he leaves an emptiness appears in my chest. An emptiness I know he’s always willing to fill right up.

Its why I’m ready for our kisses to transition from sweet and almost timid into ones of hunger and lust his tongue shameless swiping over my lower lip, earning himself a wanton moan as I grant him entrance, tongue twisting with mine not keeping this at all shy anymore or reserved.

He is a beast after all, a mighty dragon known to take what belongs to him – and what doesn’t – known to be monstrous, strong, invulnerable. He is going to take what he wants.

He has taken my heart.

At his hands landing onto my hips again fingers slipping into the juncture where my thighs meet my torso my body gradually tenses up, knowing he has something up his sleeve the kiss getting broken ‘’Shhhhh, don’t fret beloved.’’ He calms kissing me once more ‘’Relax Y/N-ah, relax…’’ like a siren luring its prey with its voice alone Yoongi has this effect on me but not thanks to magic or his draconic abilities.

It’s because I’ve learned to trust him wholeheartedly, my body in-tune with him more so than my own thoughts at times proven now as my muscles loosen listening to him before I can register his words entirely, his actions clicking in my mind a moment after as he begins pushing me onto his knot.

My hands redirect from resting against his chest to wrap around his neck, having done this quite a few times I’ve learned to arch my back and focus on my breathing ‘’Ah that’s it, what a good girl you are for me.’’ The praises keep on coming, the kiss he presses to my temple a human gesture he picked up from me, sending my heart into a fluttering spiral.

I let my head fall sideways trying to watch how he begins to stretch me impossibly wide, pain always a factor in our intimacy but not to an unbearable point. It always promises pleasure to accompany and overshadow it.

As I sink onto his bulbous knot further whines arise automatically, being vocal something I can only do with Yoongi.

‘’My pretty mate.’’ He breathes out losing the composure he has gained, voice sounding strained finally his hands steadily pushing me down I’m certain listening to the way I’m breathing watching how I’m reacting. Known to be greedy, my dragon mate is anything but when it comes to me his love overpowering his most primal traits – he has proven it time and time again, love having overtaken us both entirely, Eros’s arrow entirely wound into our hearts.

‘’Ah p-pretty huh…’’ I half-chuckle ending up groaning as I sink on the widest part, whining in protest as it doesn’t stop, bottoming out not always my favorite part.

‘’Fffffff…you’re so tight.’’ Yoongi grunt’s his hold on the verge of leaving my skin bruised. He avidly tries to avoid marking me in such way, rather slathering his scent – or semen – or love bites in a controlled manner over my skin.

‘’N-noo…’’ I chuckle ‘’You are just big.’’ I grin widely, knowing my words always raise his confidence. And there’s nothing that I prefer more than seeing my mate happy ‘’F-fuck you’re b-big…’’ the realization always weirdly daunts me, as he shifts his hips the slightest my body in tune with his entirely.

It’s a sensation I’ve grown accustomed to – like many things – to be in sync with him, to be relaxed or calm as he is, temperature catching up to his but in a safe manner, body accepting more strain. It’s a whole another thing to be connected to him like I’m now feeling as one with my mate always a magical experience. Even if he finds my description of it being magic funny, he agrees it carries those types of properties.

‘’You keep flattering me tonight, beloved.’’ Chest rumbly his lowered raspy tone sends a shiver down my spine, my cunt clenching around him ‘’Have you missed me that much? Did I leave you alone for too long?’’

Instead of teasing me he turns soft. Regaining some thinking capabilities, I lift my head not concerned with my expression neither the way I look right now as I let my eyes feast upon him, how handsome he is and collected again.

‘’Hmm possibly.’’ I begin honestly ‘’I always miss you when you leave, my love. 3 days, 1 day, 1 hour.’’ I pause seeing a shift in his eyes surprise something that always delights me ‘’I always want you by my side, my mighty dragon. Call me greedy. All I want is you.’’

Speaking from the heart is not something I usually do, emotions hard to deal with most of the time. But never when it comes to him. I’ve always found it rather straightforward when it comes to Yoongi, the fear, the confusion, the realization when I started falling for him, and even after coming to terms with my soul calling for his it’s been blissfully easy.

Something suddenly fills my chest. Pride? Love? Complete and utter adoration? It can be all of those, his emotions reflected in his expression and eyes, heart feeling like it’s going to burst, our link stronger than ever my confession causing his dragon part to let out a roar, as he howls at the sky looking magnificent, and terrifying to whoever dares to send a look his way.

Like before giggles bubble up my chest, even as he manhandles us around mouth hot as he begins his assault of delivering as much kisses as fast as he can, to an overwhelming degree his antics always welcomed. He’s bubbling with emotions, another rarity that Yoongi’ doesn’t show too often.

‘’My pretty, pretty mate. All mine.’’ He begins to growl, and mutter under his breath like a man crazed hands having flipped us around, resulting in my upper torso lying on the piled-up furs comfortably, whist he keeps my lower part and legs wrapped around him, bodies still very much so tightly wound together and connected, his hard cock not having softened a bit.

‘’Yahh Yoongi-yahh…’’ I call out teasingly, the disrespectful title I’m addressing him with always softening him, till some degree ‘’Wahh, I’ll take it you’ve missed me too.’’ my giggles get cut short, as his hands begin to knead my breasts, the dragon always happy to pinch my nipples that are already sensitive enough his touches at times downright cruel.

‘’Missed you…’’ he finally slows his frenzy of kisses ‘’…I always miss you.’’ The confession follows as he slows to a stop, hands exploring my body touch more sensual.

I let my hands drift to his cheek’s thumbs caressing his warm skin ‘’My heart belongs to you, love of my life.’’

Lowering onto his elbows he comes closer expression neutral. It’s his eyes that reflect what he’s feeling, chest full of emotions, I can feel the heat radiating from him can almost hear how his heart is thundering ‘’As mine does to you, my soul.’’

Buckling his hips, I’m startled pleasantly the spark between us regaining igniting our bodies and their needs coming to the front, emotions taking a step back. We’ve deprived ourselves to long, almost cruelly so holding back, lust a gluttonous thing growing impossible to ignore.

Pulling back slowly he’s still mindful of my body even if he lightly begins to tremble vibrations from his chest something primal from within him, that he cannot always control. His eyes silvery and deadly, indicate he is ready to devour. And yet in all his glory, his power, reputation, his proving and sheer strength Yoongi holds himself back, until his knot pops back out making him hiss, heat hitting my face as he gasps, my body shuddering at the feeling of brief emptiness.

I have to raise my head to see where we are connected, ending up surprised how wet my folds are. The sight causes warmth to hit my cheeks and chest eyes almost shy as I look up watching him as he sits up, readjusting ending up hovering over me, propped on his left hand right holding me.

‘’Come on.’’ I breathe out before I can stop myself, his predatory eyes fixing on my own ‘’Please. I need you please take me, Yoongi-ah.’’

He grunts as in warning, everything he’s displaying shouting ‘DANGER’ loud and clear.

He’s going to wreck me, absolutely destroy me, that much I can see is a promise in his eyes. And I can only bite onto my lower lip in anticipation, awaiting the destruction.

Gone is time for words, for begging, or normal human function as a matter of fact. More dragon than human, Yoongi isn’t gentle as much anymore as he pulls back and thrust back in the flare of pain at his quickness and assertiveness making an appearance, sparks beginning to roll fucking finally, my body only now showing signs of depravity as I’ve began going sensitive, breath hitching.

His hips hitting against my own, begin echoing around the spacious cavern skin slapping against skin not a sound I find shameful anymore. The growling that’s coming from deep within his throat is an indicator I’m doing something right, that I’m giving my mate pleasure even if he is chasing it himself. He is absolutely mesmerizing, holding himself above eyes focused on where we are connected, brows furrowed in concentration. His body built, shoulders and torso muscular thanks to his dragon form he feels like some sort of divinity above me, enveloping me in all his might, protecting me from everything, my soul delivering an onslaught of pleasure that begins spiking my heart rate, my skin feeling like it’s on fire, nothing else mattering in the world, only him.

It’s not even humanly possible to register the amount of pleasure he delivers initially let alone now that he speeds up, grabbing me under my knees spreading my legs further apart changing the angle he’s pistoning into me with the intention of ruin.

My voice gone, moans the only form I’m able of communication tears have already painted my cheeks and the side of my face with trails of salty water, while my body is his to control, not many function left besides the burrowing of my hands in the furs the need to hold onto something for dear life an automatic response as I’m sent hurling into the abyss of pleasure that keeps on rolling out, thanks to my mate.

He is not so far from me either, the pressure bellow beginning to increase halfway through the haze I’ve fallen into, the world spinning only around us two at the moment, his panting bringing me back to reality, whines softening my heart all at once.

Letting go of the furs I open my arms wide eagerly accepting as he falls into me, hips for the last time hitting my own as he bottoms out, making me cry out as he fills me oh so good knot engorged locking us together, his own bliss achieved as my dragon, my Yoongi lies safely and warm in my arms, eyes floating into his own haze of pleasure.

Shuddering I attempt to readjust the furs to make us more comfortable, his warning growl once more brining out giggles from me, as I proceed to accommodate us despite my tummy beginning to grow. I’ve got us rather quickly and with practiced ease covered up and not at all dislodged in the process, Yoongi’s face buried in the furs next to my head body a welcomed weight atop of me.

Loving the warmth, the heat, and most importantly his embrace I always am fascinated when I feel his heart beating against me, our chest somewhat aligned. Patient like he was with me, I keep still hands treading through his hair occasionally running up his rigged horns silently appreciating him as I hum the lullaby from before.

‘’I should teach you common sense.’’ Is the first thing he says, voice half muffled by the furs. I hum in question curious at his words, hands stopping briefly as he moves his head to the side his breath ghosting over the right side of my face ‘’Giggling when facing dragons, or growling beasts. It is not a wise thing to do.’’

At his explanation I burst into laughter, my lover catching me entirely of guard, my voice echoing as light begins to flood slowly but surely into the cave morning rising.

‘’Ah human.’’ He growls affectionately ‘’My beloved human.’’

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